Coat of Arms
by opheliasnorkels
Summary: America can't believe England would put... THAT on his national seal.


_Coat of Arms_

The door to England's office burst open, and the man steadied the brandy bottle that threatened to tip off his desk as the clangor of picture frames bouncing against the walls reverberated throughout the room.

Even before England had glanced up, he knew who had interrupted his work. The muscle beneath the Englishman's left eye began to twitch violently as his mouth quickly turned into a set frown.

As the door to his study waved in and out on its hinges, England saw his former colony, America, storming towards him, a look of perplexed horror evident on his boyish face. The young man was flushed and breathing heavily, as if he had just bolted to England's house in a panic.

Taking a deep breath, England closed his eyes and steadily leaned back in his upholstered chair, making himself comfortable against the soft velvet. He opened his mouth to speak, but his sentence was curtailed by America slamming a piece of paper onto the Englishman's desk with enough force to shake the room, the pictures again . England jumped, wide eyebrows shooting up to his forehead as he stared at where America's large hand was, splayed across a crumpled sheet of paper on his desk.

"What is this?!" America's voice came out, raspy and frantically high-pitched. England looked up to see that the young man looked positively disgusted, and for a moment, England feared that another one of his more... scandalous headline stories had reached the States.

Clearing his throat, England answered in the tone he had frequently used when America began to grow more rebellious back in the 1700s, the tone that adults usually used with stupid, _stupid_ children. "Well, if you moved your bloody hand, I could see what the hell you're referring to, now couldn't I?"

England calmly watched as America's hand flew from the paper, his face scrunched into a look of absolute revulsion as he shuffled to the farthest corner of the room, leaning sidelong against a bookshelf. England raised an eyebrow, confused as to what would upset the usually carefree (careless, he corrected himself) young man.

His bewilderment grew as he laid his eyes upon his country's seal, the seal of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, printed on computer paper with fold lines that spelled that it had traveled to his home in a pocket.

He scoffed and tossed the paper out of his hand, watching as it gently floated down to the surface of his desk. "America, I'm aware that you're not quite the most scholarly nation," England secretly delighted in the confusion on America's face at the unfamiliar word, "but any idiot could recognize that this is my national seal."

America's fist hit the bookshelf as he continued to glare at the older country. "So you admit it?"

Now England was completely flabbergasted. "Of course I admit it. Why would I deny the fact that--"

"There's a unicorn on it," America curtly said, pointing his chin in the direction of the paper.

England could feel that twitch creeping up again, and he blinked slowly and inhaled sharply. "I am quite aware that there's a unicorn on it, you twat."

As he heaved himself from the bookcase, America marched towards the seated man until he was at the desk, face-to-face with England. He gripped the edge of the desk and leaned towards the uncomfortable-looking nation. "Why?" he whispered, the word leaving his mouth with an almost painful tone.

By now, England was growing completely tired of the country's antics, sizing this up as simple stupidity on America's part, and he retorted, "For the same reason your goddamned bald eagle is on yours!"

At that, America pushed himself off from the desk and paced in front of the desk, laughing. "No! No, you see, that eagle is on there because it represents heroes! And courage! And--" America struggled to find the words, "--And other justice-y things!" he added, with more vigor than the others, which only emphasized to England the uselessness of the numerous vocabulary lessons he had given him as a child. Nodding, America continued his passionate rant, his grin confidently growing on his face. "That mutant horse of yours, what? It represents fantasy! And stupid things like... like Harry Potter!"

England massaged his temples to ward off the agonizing headache that threatened to take over his entire head, coming up with a definitive point to end this childish argument (and reassuring himself that America did _not_ think Harry Potter was stupid; that immature prat ate those books up, and he _knew_ it).

Shoulders squared, England began his defense. "The unicorn is a long-enduring symbol of the English spirit--"

"It's a pansy-ass horse!"

"--and I believe that the people of my country feel--"

"That lion on your seal? Why hasn't it eaten that freakin' horse yet? Huh?"

"--that its importance is overall representative of the culture of the United Kingdom, hence its presence--"

"It's prancing, England! _Prancing!_"

"--on the national seal!" By now, England was shouting over America's interjections, and as he finished his tirade, he grinned (only as an attempt to hide the vein about to burst in his forehead, but like _hell_ he'd let America know that this was getting to him) and jovially slammed his fist against the desk he sat at.

The brandy bottle waver where it stood, the sound of glass against the surface of the desk ringing as the two men stared at each other, refusing to speak as they calmed themselves.

Finally, in a last futile attempt to make his point, America spoke. "Listen. You've got a unicorn, a fuckin' unicorn, on your national seal!" America threw up his hands, a frustrated smile on his face. "They don't even exist, England, okay? They don't exist!"

England's voice began to rise in volume, and he crossed his arms against his chest. "Well, with the way you've been taking care of your country's ecosystem, your bloody turkey won't be alive for much longer either!"

The younger country pointed an accusing finger at the man across from him, his expression murderous. "Don't you dare-- No, you leave the bald eagle out of this, you limey bastard!"

England rose from his chair so quickly his knees knocked against the desk, and for a third time that morning, the brandy bottle, jolted, tilted precariously near the edge towards the wood flooring below, but it managed to teeter back on balance when its owner, feeling the argument had reached its apex, simply sighed and held his hands up in defense. "Fine. Let's just--" He let the air he had been keeping in out in a huff, "--agree to disagree, shall we?" America rolled his eyes, and England took that as a confirmation to his suggestion and sat back down, interlacing the fingers of his hands together and propping himself up on his elbows.

America sauntered about the study, still pouting at the stalemate he was forced to accept, and preoccupied himself by fiddling with the various relics on the shelves. England counted slowly to ten to keep himself from chucking that damn brandy bottle at the young man's head (_Don't touch that, don't touch that, DON'T TOUCH THAT, YOU IGNORANT PRIG._).

"Agree to disagree, huh?" The American snorted, watching apathetically as the item he was toying around with fell back down to the shelf much more violently than he had intended. "Haven't we always?" It came out as more of a statement than a question, and he continued his route about the room. England's eyes followed him, unblinking, and suddenly America stopped in his tracks, his face gaining a look of sudden insight, and England watched as the younger nation began rummaging through his jacket pocket.

He smiled as he retrieved another crumpled sheet of paper, and clutching it firmly in his gloved hand, strutted towards England's desk again.

America's hand flew upwards then came barreling back down to smack the England's again, covering yet another sheet of paper. Faintly, England heard the brandy bottle go toppling off the desk with a _crash!_ as America shouted, "Alright, now let's talk about France's seal!"

---

A/N: I am an ignorant American, hence my surprise at the fact that there is a freakin' unicorn on the national seal of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.  
As Miranda said, "I will never doubt anything in Hetalia ever again."


End file.
